the real woman
by Saphire-Holmes
Summary: basically, the woman, before irene.
1. Chapter 1

Evangalique Swann jumped out of the cab, sucking in a lungful of fresh- well, not so fresh- air, her thin t-shirt, and leggings hugged her spindly frame as she walked down the pavement a little toward Scotland Yard. Her first day on a new job. Her arms wrapped around her middle, almost protectively, as she reached the doors, her anorexia was doing nothing to help her energy levels, all she'd had to eat in the past weekend was a large macdonalds fries, which to her.. was way too much. Eva walked up to the main desk after walking through, feeling confident in her new hooker boots, but the air of self-conciousness still lingered around her mind. _Imperfect, imperfect, imperfect..._ "Hello," She said in her strong-but-soft clean cut English accent, "I am Evangalique Swann, Here for the..?" she trailed off, and the portly receptionist smiled at her, "Ah, yes." She said, "We're expecting you." /how cliché../ Eva thought, suppressing an eyeroll. The woman rose from her seat with some sort of difficulty, and grinned way too happily, leading her down the hall, and kept speaking, "okay, there's another on this case, he's, ah, hard.. to work with, i mean, of course, which is why he's working it alone." Eva just nodded, clinging to herself, head down... _imperfect, imperfect, imperfect,_ "But, we decided to put you with him, show you the ropes, you know.." They stopped at the door, a clear door, with nothing written on it as to indicate whom waited behind it. The receptionist turned and dashed down the hallway, leaving Evangalique standing there, awkward as ever. Eventually, she gained the courage to raise her fist and knock, but before she could, a voice called from the inside, "Only come in if you have something interesting to give." She sighed, and opened the door, standing there, "Hello," she bagan, "I am-"

"Evangalique Swann, Yes, i know." Said a man, about her age, maybe a year or so older, sitting at a table, head bent, his black-as-night curls shining ever so slightly in the pale lamplight, his fingers were steepled, eyes shut, face fathomless. He slowly opened his eyes, which were just as dark as his hair and flickered his eyes over her tiny frame. She felt her lower lip tug into her mouth, teeth tugging on the soft flesh. He leant back in his seat, "So you're going to be working with me." And at that, he didn't seem happy. Eva nodded slightly, and took a seat opposite him. "Here's the case notes." He slid a file across the table, and she opened it, letting him go back to his, _uh_, thinking. "I'm sorry." She said, coughing to clear her throat, "I didn't catch your name," She crooked an eyebrow and waited. "Sherlock." He said, raising his head once more, with a slight smirk, "Sherlock Holmes."

_Sherlock Holmes, _sociopathic, mysterious and yet darkly attractive Sherlock Holmes. She smirked back at him, "Well, Mr Holmes, I have a feeling this will be an excellent partnership." She said, the waves of cliché rolling off of her. He shrugged offhandedly, but the smirk still remained, making her forget all of her troubles- the anorexia- the modelling woes. "yes, Miss Swann, i think i may have to agree."


	2. Chapter 2

Three months later-

Evangalique was only meant to stay with Sherlock for a month... just until they'd solved that case- which they'd done in one week – but here she was, laying on the sofa, laying on top of him, facing upward, both of them reading, her with her two hands, and him with one, his other had wrapped carefully around her almost concave stomach. She eventually set the book down, more strewing it on the floor, before rolling over, stomach to stomach and crossing her arms at the top of his chest, resting her chin as she looked at him. He smiled, noting this, but didn't do anything, merely continuing scanning the book. Soon, he did the same, strewing away the book and looking at her, "you're lucky" he murmured, his long fingers brushing her hair from her face, "you're one of the few _humans _I can bear being around." Eva giggled, "Figures." She sighed happily, he was good for her, good _to_ her even, she'd sort of explained her anorexia, and he'd tried to help, asking what she would eat, what she wouldn't, and had established she'd only have MacDonald's fries, so bless his heart, he'd gone and brought her them. They looked at each other. What they were, you might ask, well, she didn't know, truly, but... that didn't bother her at all, they hadn't really _done_ anything. Yes, they kissed sometimes, yes, they slept in the same bed, yes she slept in his shirts, but... well, they were friends, they weren't tied to each other... when they kissed, it'd be all intense, but then they'd pull away, and be chatty friends... confusing, yes, but god, did she love it.. "Shall we go to bed?" he murmured, smiling slightly. She nodded and stood up, letting him lead her. They walked into his bedroom, their bedroom, and she grabbed one of his shirts, walking into the bathroom. She closed the door and undressed, staring at herself in the mirror for a second, thinking of, and well... she did eat a lot of fries, after all. She shook her head. No. No, no more. She gulped and slipped the shirt on, then brushed her hair, walking out as she did it. He looked up, and patted the bed, holding out his hand. She handed him the brush and sat down, leaning against him slightly, feeling his fingers scrape the hair from her neck, and the brushing it, she loved that feeling, the feeling of being treated carefully. He finished and kissed the back of her neck on a whim, smirking almost proudly at the small shudder he got for it. She swatted his head and moved to lay on the bed, followed by him. He laid his hand on her stomach, and looked at her. She moved slightly, bringing their lips together, and he yielded, opening his soft lips to allow her tongue to trail the inside of his mouth, but he was clearly not sated, and she soon felt his tongue wrapping around hers and smiling into it. She closed her eyes happily, hands crushed against his chest as he moved to be on top of her, hands sliding down her sides. She felt her heart race, skin prickling in goose pimples, and instinctively bit his tongue carefully, earning a moan from him; this was sort of an experiment- to both of them, seeing what worked, what didn't. She didn't know why he found her attractive, she was skinny and bony and ugly, but here he was, lifting the shirt from the little body- it was a wonder he hadn't crushed her- and kissing her stomach. She gasped, biting down on her lip, until she felt his hands move, hesitantly, to her bra. They both froze, realising two things... one- they were both virgins at this, and two- they'd given way to their baser instincts. Eva, not one for making things obvious, subtly kissed him a bit softer, reaching for her shirt. Sherlock moved slowly, sliding off of her body, laying down beside her yet again, their lips still locked as he helped her do the shirt. She eventually pulled away, brushing her thumb along his lips and looking at him, kissing the space between both eyes and laying down, facing away, their backs pressed together. Ten minutes later, Sherlock's lips pressed to her ear. He didn't believe in love, of course... it was a mere chemical reaction, but he did feel some affliction for her and not some... a lot... "I love you, Miss Swann" he whispered breathily, as he was sure she was asleep.

Evangalique eyes were wide open, staring at the wall; his words resonating in her head, letting him think she was asleep. /I love you too/ she thought, but couldn't bring herself to say it... what were they? Were they tied to each other? What was going on? She closed her eyes sadly, realising that staying was a bad idea, she had to go... but he'd convince her to change her mind... she had to go, and he'd have to believe she was definitely gone- Eva had to die. She closed her eyes, laying in silence, listening to the sound of her hamster running in its wheel across the other side of the flat.


End file.
